The 70th Hunger Games- Opal's story
by rainbowpie13
Summary: A story about a girl from the Capitol named Opal and her story. PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

I race into the woods, hoping the brown shoulder backpack I grabbed at the Cornucopia doesn't fly off my scarred back. I put more energy in my irregular pace, evening it out until it's a steady drumbeat. My breath is cold and rages, and my feet are beginning to tire. I race along the frozen ground, wondering if my friends would put some weird, futuristic, fantasy like weapon on me at the _beginning_ of the Hunger Games. My friends are the game makers, by the way… Usually people in the districts wouldn't be friendly with their enemies, but… I'm technically not from the districts. I am from the Capitol. After watching 14 Hunger Games, on television, surrounded by disorienting colorful dresses and cheering and bobbing hats oblivious to their wearer, I had had enough.

I had never cheered when a little girl from District Seven died, only cried. I had never wore pink and green to the parties, only black. I'd thought it was the most I could do.

But it wasn't the most I could do. I realized that a couple months ago. I thought there was no way I could stop the annual event that made up our nation, but now, I thought, as I raced, maybe I could.


	2. Chapter 2

That was the reason I was here right now, running, still running. I wonder what my family was thinking. Maybe that I was a crazy outcast (true), going to die (hopefully not true, but probable), or maybe they were just worried (I hoped not, that would just make things harder to bear).

Well, I would make history, that was for sure. I could hear Caesar Flickerman in my head as I grimace, imagining what he would say... "First Capitol girl to compete in the Hunger Games! Little ironic, eh?" I cringe, and hope the cameras aren't on me. As I keep sprinting, I keep an eye on things around me. My shoes are getting soggy, and my breath is ragged and tired._ I will stop in a minute,_ I promise my lungs.

Pretty soon I _do_ stop, and clear out a spot where no one can find me. I make a small fire out of the dirty leaves and sticks nearby. I look around for the first time since leaving the Cornucopia. I shiver, remembering it.

About six hours earlier, I had left my spot and rushed toward the Cornucopia. I had been running my whole life, so I was the fastest, except for a District Six girl. When I got there, for a nanosecond we bth looked at each other. Then we each turned away, grabbed either a backpack (me) or a scary-looking dagger with shie and sharp edges(her). I didn't think she was capable of killing someone with that, partly because she was about four feet tall, and partly because of her eyes.

Her eyes were soft golden brown. They whispered, _Come with me. I am safe. I won't hurt you. _It scared me how safe she looked. I longed to hold her hand, to tell her scared, safe, innocent eyes that everything would be okay. But, I knew that would mean sorrow later or death later. So I turned when she did.

A Career caught up to us at the Cornucopia. _HEEEEYAAAAAH! _He tried to grab a dagger and kill the little Six girl, but she ducked and ran to the woods. I had about a sixteenth of a second before he would've tried me, too. So I grabbed the backpack and ran after Six.

In the woods, I couldn't find her. So I ran in a direction and ran and ran, and now here I was.

I sigh. Everything here is dark and gray and brown and _gross._ I realize I am sitting directly into... the mud. I sigh again. Who cares what I look like down here?

For the first time, I realize I am _starving._ I zip open the brown bag quickly, and clumsily pour our the contents onto my tired legs. Water, thankfully, tumbles out first. I gulp it all down, because I am just that dumb. I soon regret it, because the fire is burning my mouth and making it feel on fire. The rest of the stuff in the bag is great too, except the matches. I can make a fire _in my sleep _with just some sticks, rocks, and oxygen. Oh well- maybe I'll find some use for them. I find a blanket, which I'll need since the temperature in this gray hell is dropping by the second. There is a small dagger, which doesn't even _start_ to compare to the huge one Six grabbed earlier, but will come in handy nonetheless. At this rate, even more, since I have no food, water- and no shelter- from the predicted Seneca Crane weapon/deadly bee/hallucination attack, I now notice.

I gulploudly, and now, like the water, regret my stupid actions. _Think, Opal, think before you kill yourself being stupid, _I tell myself. I wish I weren't here, and actually I long for the stupid Capitol, but soon I remember why I am here, and get myself determined that _I will win._


	3. Chapter 3

Escaping my thoughts and going back to reality, I go back to my original problem, food and water, or the lack of it. Water is a must, I see, as I watch the temperature section of my watch lower, the snow freeze more, and the sky... _Wait! The snow..._ I grab a handful off a nearby rock (gray, of course), not minding the frozen pain in my excitement. I throw it into the metal canteen that once held water, and will again. I arrange sticks to hold it up, over the fire. It quickly melts, giving me fresh water, a throat that is less on fire, and a smile. As I grin and almost laugh, I realize I haven't done so in a while. It feels good.

After filling the canteen with snow, I gulp some down, the hot liquid burning my sore throat, like a lake suddenly overflowing a dam and becoming a waterfall. Ah, it feels so good, but it _is_ a gray and dirty waterfall. My stomach churns in relief and offense as the first substance its held in hours enters it. The rest of the liquid, still boiling, I stick in some nearby snow. There it will sit, until the next morning, if I live that long. I laugh in irony at that last thought.

The world seems to fade away as I grab a nearby plant and boil it. It's safe, I know that for a fact. It tastes like grayness and sorrow. I laugh bitterly and humorlessly again. I quickly munch it up, my stomach churning again. I boil more and more until it's gone and I'm full. Tomorrow's meal will probably not be as easy to spot, and will probably be poisonous. I know that much from watching the Hunger Games, planning my survival. Although, the cameras never really stayed on people surviving. Mostly the shots were of the bloodbath or someone in pain.

The frozen trees around me rustle as frozen leaves fall off. I go back to the bag and fish out the last item- A bag of trail mix. Why would they give me that? Weren't we supposed to "fend for ourselves"? I decide _not_ to eat it.

The blanket is cozy around my cold, shaking body. I realize I got the best part of the deal of everyone. A blanket, water, _trail mix?_ Most people are lucky to get an arrow, let alone a bow and a whole quiver of arrows. I lay down on the cold, _hard_, ground. It knocks the breath out of me, how flat and hard and cold it is, a virtual steel plate!

My mind wanders to Daisy. Far from the cheerful connotation her name held for her, she had a hard life. I only knew her for a couple of hours, and I already knew that...

She was twelve years old. From District Eight. One of the poorest. She had worked in a mill her whole life, almost, only getting days where they were all caught up off, which was seldom. She was the reason I was here. Luckily, my parents hadn't been paying attention when I escaped from our pink home. All the years I had tried to escape viewing of the reaping, they had literally tied me to a chair to watch people's families being saddened, angered. But now, I was _free. Free to relieve someone _of the terror of competing in the deadly arena.

I had heard crying and had entered the place the names were chosen. For District Eight, it was the field right outside the main textile mill. I had walked in right when she was Chosen. "Do we have any volunteers for this young tribute here?" a voice boomed in the microphone. Low buzz and murmurs went through the crowd. I had suprised myself and shouted "YES!" The murmurs turned to gasps and buzz turned to talk as suprised faces turned toward me.

Daisy wasn't famous, exceptionally good at her job, or really exceptionally anything, but I had saved her and her family. That was what mattered.

I was surprised at my self and the situation. I knew I would do this for someone, and had planned it for months, but now here it was, actually happening. Daisy had fainted, then. She was brought to me later in the small goodbye room. Her face was scared and she was crying.

It was _all_ crying then, and her whole family coming in to thank me and give me our one allowed token- my new watch. They bought it in another district with all their savings. I thanked them. In the arena, it really was useful, since it told the time, temperature, where I was, and other various things.

What I clearly remember, though, is her face as this went on. She was obviously over consumed with guilt, as I would be too, if another person did that for me.

I start to think of better things...

My last thought is that today I was lucky. Very lucky. Tomorrow will be worse. I have a nightmare that night about meeting someone, in the arena. I pray that my nightmare doesn't become reality.


End file.
